Shadows
by Sivan IXXX
Summary: It's the year 1870. A young maiden from the streets of France moves to London in hopes of escaping the rage of her father, and to investigate the disappearance of her sister. The clues lead her to the Kenway estate, and into the high society of England. What awaits her isn't privilege, prestige and wealth, but rather quite the opposite. Genre will change. Connorline AU.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N: Hey guys! Here is the prologue to Shadows. It might be a little choppy, so forgive me. I haven't written anything in a while, so I may be a bit rusty.**

**Also: Most of the characters in this story will be both from ACIII and AC:Liberation. Those who aren't familiar belong to me and are purely original.**

**And the beginning is written in English, but the conversation is in French, thus why it's written in italics.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Ubisoft, so please don't sue.**

**And please don't forget to review; I would really appreciate your feedback.**

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**The Kenway Estate, 1870**

_"You must be new to London. Where are you from?" _the stagecoach asked. The shy, young Frenchwoman could hardly look up into his face, though he meant no harm in asking her such a question._ "Come now, don't be shy." _His heavy English accent made her cringe inside, but his handsome countenance put her at ease, just a little.

_"...Paris." _He snapped the reigns, and the wooden carriage lurched forward. The young woman adjusted her shawl on her shoulders; the air was much less forgiving than back home.

_"Ah, the rumored city of love, yes? I've always wanted to visit it someday. They say that Paris has a way of drawing star-crossed lovers together under the strangest of circumstances." _He looked to her for affirmation, and she politely shrugged her shoulders. _"London must be a big change from where you're from. The clouds are always grey here, and we never have to worry about rain, because it's guaranteed eight months out of the year,"_ he joked. When he realized she didn't find it funny, his smile faded, and he turned his eyes back to the cobblestone road.

London was certainly different. Everyone was so...gray, and dull. Perhaps the dreary weather made everyone look washed out like a worn garment.

_"What's your name?"_ he attempted to resurrect the conversation. The sudden sound of his voice interrupted her train of thought, and she had to think for a moment.

_"Aveline. Aveline de Grandpré."_

_"That's a pleasant name. It rolls right off the tongue. My name is Gerald Blanc. I was raised in Lyon."_ The horse whinnied, and she trained her eyes to the road ahead of them.

The streets were crowded and bustling with life. What seemed to be the heart of London was marked with tall, stately buildings made of brick. The large clock that she had only heard rumors of stood by itself. Its large hand passed the twelve, and it rang eight times, its chime ringing loudly in the air. A train whistled nearby; she hadn't noticed the station until it did. Just as in Calais*, there were fruit stands lining the streets, ports brimming with large wooden crates and goods from overseas wrapped tight under canvas and thick rope. It seemed city living didn't change, no matter where one went.

_"We're almost to the Kenway estate. Do you know anything about your employer?"_

_"No. I only know that my sister worked for them."_

_"Then perhaps I should inform you of their history. Master Haytham Kenway is the owner of the estate; he inherited it from his father, Edward James Kenway, who passed some time ago. He is a master shipbuilder, and he worked closely with the British Royal Navy until he fell seriously ill. His wife, Madame Kanetthio, is a Native from the Americas. She was brought here when Master Kenway received word that she was with child. Their son, Connor, will one day be the inheritor of all his property and earnings since he is the only child. Now, **he** is an interesting character."_

_"Why?"_ she asked. If she were to be dealing with a silly little boy while attempting to complete her job under the watchful gaze of the Master of the house, then he would be a problem.

_"He adapted to the customs of living in the wealthy class of London quite well. Despite his physical appearance, if one were to speak to him with their back turned, they would think he was an English gentleman. However, he uses his words like an American, and that is what makes him interesting. He spent such a short time in the United States, but he brought back so many of their ways. It puzzles the older ones, but the younger generations worship him."_

_"How is he so well-known?"_

_"First and foremost, his father's name gives him access to every single dinner party and social event that the rich arrange. He even attended the knighting of Sir George Young, the warden of Scotland Yard. And the women, of course, do not turn a blind eye to the young lad."_

Aveline said no more, but rather, began to anticipate the teenage terror that would be awaiting her at the Kenway estate, perhaps lurking around a corner with a frog, or a rope to trip her feet.

Sighing gently, she smoothed down the loose curl dancing about her face. It was too late to turn back; she had made her choice, and she couldn't run anymore.

What must have been the Kenway estate lay before her, and she tried her best to remain composure. Despite the fact that it was in a bustling metropolis, the enormous knoll before her reminded her of the French countryside. The flowers in the small courtyard were well-maintained, and the fountain was carved into the shape of a woman in a loose robe holding a small orb in her hand. The stairs were elaborately carved out of stone, and the mansion itself was made of the same type of rock, though the numerous window panes were made of wood.

The wicked, pointed roofs of the main sections of the house seemed a bit intimidating, but the Gothic design also intrigued her.

_"The first visit to the Kenway mansion always leave strangers in awe,"_ he chuckled, pulling the horse to a gentle stop._ "The late Master Edward paid to have this plot of land cleared so that this home could be built for his family and all the generations to follow. But we don't have time to stare in awe. It's best to get you acquainted with the others."_ He stepped down onto the rocky ground and extended his hand to her to steady her footing. She grabbed what meager possessions she had in her bag and took his assistance before following him up the stairs.

Aveline was very nervous for many reasons: she was alone in a city she didn't know, her employer sounded quite intimidating, and...

She didn't know much English and certainly not enough to hold a conversation. She wondered how Hélène fared, and if she ever learned English well enough to speak it fluently. _"I'm sure the Kenways will not expect you to know English right away, so I will do my best to be around when there's something you don't understand_," he assured her with a warm smile. Aveline felt a wave of relief wash over her.

_"Thank you very much, Gerald.__"_ The moment he opened the door, they were met with frenzied activity. There were at least a dozen women hurrying in either direction of the hallway, some carrying tablecloths, others balancing silverware and fine china in their hands.

_"I failed to inform you that they are having a gathering of friends tonight, so every single maid and manservant are on duty right now. Once you've met the family, Missus Ingleton will give you your assignment." _As they ascended the stairs and walked down the hallways, she admired the paintings on the wine-colored walls, some of shiny-coat dogs and horses, and others of lush landscapes and forests of far away. Yet, there were also a few of a handsome yellow-haired man with a proud set of his jaw and deep blue eyes that penetrated the soul. Perhaps that was Master Haytham. And there were others of a distinctly attractive woman with hair as black as ink and eyes just as dark and mesmerizing. Her gaze seemed to follow her as she walked close behind Gerald. She concluded that that was Madame Kanetthio; she had never seen a Native of the Americas.

_"I will inform you now: Master Haytham is rarely in a suitable mood to speak to anyone. His illness makes him very unpredictable, and sometimes hostile in his behavior. So please do not take offense to his actions." _Aveline wanted to ask exactly what kind of illness he possessed, yet she held her tongue; if he hadn't disclosed it, it was for good reason.

Gerald opened the wooden doors and led her inside. Master Haytham's bedroom had dark furnishings and a large bed that sat up high off the thick rugs on the wooden floor. He was sitting upright with a pair of glasses perched on his avian nose.

"Gerald. I see you've brought company. Surely by the way she's dressed, she's not a suitor here for Connor," he spoke. His tone was painfully formal and proper—and she wasn't sure if she should have been insulted by his observation or not.

"No. This is the new maiden assigned to watch over Madame Ziio. Aveline de Grandpré."

This time, he actually took his eyes away from the book to give her a once-over. Surely that was not the man in the paintings. Master Haytham's hair was most definitely dark as a younger man, and his eyes were dismissive, almost as if he didn't want to acknowledge the existence of anyone besides himself. "She seems harmless enough. Exceptionally pretty. It's not that Ziio can't hold her own quite well, but we must exercise caution with strangers from other lands. Their customs can be quite barbaric."

Aveline rolled her eyes mentally and called him an expletive in her native tongue, but bowed slightly with a polite smile.

"Oh. She has manners. Lovely. Where is she from?"

"Paris."

"The rat hole just across the way. Despite their allied victory with the Americans, they fail to appease their own citizens just a few decades later. A strange occurrence, but not of my concern. Very well. Send her to my wife for appraisal. The last two girls left the estate in tears." He returned to his book, and apparently, their conversation was over.

The French woman left the room quickly behind her French counterpart to keep her temper from boiling over at the cost of her job.

_"That is not the Master Haytham that employed me several years ago. He was much gentler and sympathetic towards the disadvantaged,"_ Gerald told her. _"Madame Ziio is pleasant most days, but it seems the difficulty of her pregnancy never fixed itself, and she is confined to her bedroom. If I am correct, it was your sister Hélène that kept careful watch over her and took good care of her. They will be expecting you to meet or exceed her performance. Since there is an event tonight, she will need your strength to tend to her guests."_

He opened the door to her room, which was a drastic difference from Master Haytham's room. Her decorations were nothing like Aveline had ever seen, so they must have been from the Americas. They were strange, but beautiful in their exotic nature. Her walls were light blue, almost white, and instead of blankets comprised of fabric, they were heavy animal furs. Instead of paintings, she had what looked like a net with feathers tied to a loose string hanging on the walls. The traditional dresser with a vanity mirror sat on the other side of her room, and there were many dresses that hung in her wardrobe.

Aveline was so fixated on her surroundings, she had failed to notice the woman sitting by the window in a plump armchair, watching her intently. "You are so fascinated with what my husband provides for me, that you have failed to see the very reason for being in here." Her deep, strong voice caught her attention immediately, and the young woman suddenly felt very self-conscious in front of the older, beautiful woman. Her skin was the shade of mahogany wood, and her features were chiseled and broad. Her eyes were dark and perceiving, yet kind, and her raven-colored hair was braided into two neat plaits that fell to her bosom. "You must be Helen's sister. She did not lie when she said her younger sister strongly resembled her."

"Oui (Yes)," she said, immediately trying to find the English word for yes. "U-uh..."

"It's alright," she said with an assuring smile. "You will learn English soon enough. It was not an easy language for me to grasp, either. Gerald, make sure to give her a uniform and send her back to me."

"Of course, Madame. Right away." Aveline bowed and went on her way, the hostility she once felt quickly dissipating with the kindness of her mistress.

_"I like Madame Ziio,"_ she informed Gerald immediately.

He smiled. "_Perhaps she has a soft spot for you, since you are not from this part of the world, either. She keeps her distance from the other maids, because they are hesitant to be in her company. They have their reservations about Natives from America and thus they are scared of her. But she is a very pleasant woman."_

"_And what about their son, Connor?" _she asked as Gerald began to ascend a flight of stairs.

He gave her a less than pleased look. _"You will meet the future of the Kenways soon enough. Stay here while I go fetch a uniform in your size." _He disappeared up the stairs, and she began to look around again. One painting in particular caught her interest. It was most definitely Madame Ziio, but she had a baby in her arms. It was a dark-haired child with sharp, piercing eyes, much like the blond-haired man in the other portrait. Her guess was that the baby was Connor. Not much time must have passed since it was completed.

The sound of a masculine voice behind a closed door drew her attention further down the hall, to the last room on the level. The door was barely open, but the voice was clear and strong. Whoever it was, he must have been reciting a poem or speech.

"...joust of words, so to speak."

"Aye. 'Twas exactly what you say." She heard a book slam shut and hit the floor; she stepped closer to see who it was that was frustrated. He passed by the door, a flash of blue and tan. "No. This is stupid. I hate English literature." His accent was not like Madame Ziio's, nor like Haytham's, but a mix of the two. "I'm turning into one of them. I didn't go to America for nothing." His footsteps approached the door, and she turned to leave, until she felt his hands reach out of the door and pull her in by the arms.

What smelled like alcohol and paper flooded her nostrils as she was forced to stand in front of whoever it was that grabbed her.

Connor Kenway was no spindly teenage boy. His lips were fixed in a thin line, and his eyes were full of fiery impudence. "What have we here?" he asked.

She remained silent, not only because she couldn't speak English, but because his presence was so overwhelming and dictatorial, that she felt _afraid__. _

"You must be one of the suitors that can't speak English. That is...feasible." He stepped closer, and in the shadow of his hulking presence, she stepped back to allow herself room to breathe. But with each step back that she took, he filled that with his own until she was pressed against the wall. He reached out and grabbed her face, holding it firmly in his hands. "I'm not too impressed. High cheekbones, lips much too full, but..." He forced her to stare directly at him. His eyes were like molten gold, and held that same intensity that the baby in the painting possessed. "Green eyes with your skin _is_ peculiar. Where are you from?"

"Monsieur (Mister) Connor..." she started to say. As if burned by fire, he pulled away, confused—almost _insulted. _

"You're not a suitor; you're a maidservant. Why are you in here?" he demanded. The once inquiring, curious demeanor he possessed quickly turned into hardened arrogance.

She attempted to explain, stuttering over the few words she could say in English. "I...Madame...uh...help..." Within seconds, Gerald appeared with her uniform and ripped her out of Connor's reach as if he were a predator.

"What is she doing here? Why is she not in uniform?" he turned the question to the more seasoned helper.

"I was procuring a uniform for her and she must have wandered off. I'm sorry, Master Connor. Suivez-moi (Follow me), Aveline." Without looking back, she hurried behind Gerald, eager to escape Master Haytham's son.

But she would never forget his eyes.

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And so there you have it! This sets the stage for the rest of the story. As I mentioned in the beginning author's note, many familiar faces will appear in this story and will pop up very often.

So we've been introduced to the Kenways. Haytham seems to be unchanged, but what mysterious illness does he have? We will find out eventually.

And Connor...my goodness, he is quite a character, indeed. Not to worry, he will reveal more of his coined reputation among his fellow Englishmen. But the moment at the end, is just one run-in between our two beloved Assassins.

Ziio will probably be the Mother Hen throughout the story. And she will always be on Aveline's side, which is a plus for this story, since her son and husband don't seem to care too much for Aveline.

Expect an update within the next few weeks; I can't give you an_ exact_ date, but I'm shooting for **February**** 24th.**

*Fact Tidbits: Calais is a real city in northwestern France. It's a port city and they do send out and receive goods from other countries to distribute to mainland cities.

**Please do check out the poll on my profile.** It's crucial for the development of this story: to have an Assassin-Templar conflict or not to have one? Just keep in mind: this is AU, so making no mention of it shouldn't be a problem, right? But still, you guys have a measure of control over which direction this story goes.


	2. Chapter 2

**A/N: Thank you guys so much for showing your support for this story! For being so faithful, here is the first chapter.**

**Also: Connor will continue to make appearances in each chapter, so we'll get some Connorline action often enough. And French dialogue will continue to be written in italics.**

**And I should warn you, there will be issues of immigration and race in this story, so there will be sequences of dialogue where it's not so pleasant.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Ubisoft, so please don't sue.**

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**Chapter I: London's Finest**

Aveline decided from the moment that Gerald ripped her away from Connor, that she would do her absolute best not to run into him while she was alone, or even in the midst of others. He unsettled her greatly with how much power he wielded in his hands and his eyes. If he wanted to, he could have broken her slender neck with just a slight movement of his arm.

_"Why did you go into his room? He is nothing but trouble, like the rest of them,"_ Gerald told her, escorting her down the hall.

_"I didn't. He grabbed me and pulled me inside. He thought I was one of the women he was expecting."_

_"Connor Kenway is not to be trusted. He's known for flirting unashamedly with women, though he has an intended already."_

_"Then he's not a man at all. He's just a boy,"_ she muttered, trying to cool the heat in her cheeks. She couldn't believe that she was _almost_ taken by his handsome appearance like a fresh-faced teen, and here she was on the verge of being two and twenty!

_"Exactly. And the last thing I would want to happen to you is a scandal involving his name. He will go without punishment and you will be deported to France or reduced to working in a brothel."_

Aveline shuddered at the thought of using her body to earn a means of living—if the wages even were hers to keep. But as was the case in Paris, when a woman was without a husband or a modest way to take care of herself, if she didn't want to starve in the streets, she had to use her only resource. _"Who is his intended? Surely he doesn't care about her a great deal if he's willing to put his hands on another woman."_

_"Her name is Lilith Adams. When her father passed, her mother inherited all of his earnings and estate from his steel-working mills. If Connor were to marry her, they would be one of the wealthiest and influential couples in London. His father neither approved nor disapproved of their courtship, and his mother frowned on the relationship, since the girl is boring and has no substance, as she put it the day she met Lilith."_ Aveline wondered what this Lilith Adams looked like, since her own appearance did not strike Connor Kenway that much, if at all.

Gerald stopped in front of a door and opened it for her. There was a dimly lit candle on a nightstand, and an empty washbasin in the middle of the floor. _"You can change into your uniform here. Leave your clothes folded on the stand and someone will wash them and have them ready for your departure for the evening. Madame Ziio will be expecting your assistance shortly."_ And with that, Gerald left her alone.

After closing the door and locking it for good measure, Aveline began loosening the back of her mint green dress, all the while thinking of how drastic her life would change now that she was living on her own.

With both of her parents inept, she had to fend for herself. The registration assistant informed her of the closest local housing developments where she would be with other women and off of the streets. She had already been assigned a room and a bed, and she was promised such every night as long as she paid the small fee for keeping it. She wondered how many of the other women serving the Kenways lived there, or if they had family in London to stay with.

Lingering no more than a few seconds, Aveline stepped into her maid's outfit, tightened the bodice, and stepped out to return to Madame Ziio.

She was still sitting in the chair when the younger woman knocked twice. "Come in." Aveline entered quietly and closed the door behind her.

"I'm sure Gerald let you know that we're throwing a small gathering of friends tonight, at my son's behest. He's the most sociable of the family. You'll have to help me up; my body is not what it used to be." She approached the older woman and carefully helped her up by her hands before holding her steady by the waist. Madame Ziio walked slowly towards her private washroom with a slight limp on her right side. For a woman who looked to be no older than forty years, she moved about like a much older woman.

Aveline wanted to ask her what happened, but it was neither her place nor her concern. "Before I knew I was pregnant with Connor, my village back home was burned down by colonists. When I was trying to escape, a wooden beam fell on my leg, and I haven't been able to walk the same since then. And Connor was a difficult child for me to carry. He caused me to bleed and bleed until he finally decided he wanted to come out. Haytham was terrified that I would not have survived the delivery. But here I am. Broken and older than I'd like, but here nonetheless." Her washroom was painted the same color as her bedroom, with a rack for fresh cloths and scented oils. Ziio began to loosen the ties of her dress, and Aveline was quick to assist in sliding the dress down her shoulders.

Her injury aside, Madame Ziio was a sturdy woman, her bone and muscle hardened by her previous life in North America. It was a strength that she not only could see in her frame, but also _feel_ by her very presence. Though Connor had scared her to her bones, he possessed the same spirit.

"Pull the lever for the warm water," she instructed and Aveline did so, watching the faucet fill the large tub, slowly but surely. "Help me inside." She linked hands with her and helped her into the white basin. The Native woman let out a relieved sigh and closed her eyes. "Not a day goes by when I'm reminded of what happened that day in my village. People were screaming in fear and anguish, there was fire everywhere; bodies littered the ground that was no longer sacred. And then my husband decides to bring me here, close to my son's birth date.

My friends and family are nothing but a bittersweet memory in my heart. I've chosen to forgive Haytham and his people for what they've done, but that doesn't mean I've forgotten."

Aveline remained speechless, having nothing to say (for even if she did, Madame Ziio wouldn't have understood). She had never really heard what had been happening in the United States when she was back in Paris, except that they were being torn in two by legal slavery, and that was some years ago. But she would have never guessed they were mistreating and _killing_ innocent people.

Once the tub was full, Aveline stopped the water and began to loosen Ziio's braids, allowing her thick, raven-colored hair to ripple and fall down her shoulders. No doubt, when Master Haytham first caught sight of her, he was mesmerized by her dark, exotic looks.

Aveline went for the soap—which she knew to be imported from °Marseille—and dipped it in the warm water before she carefully tended to the skin on her shoulders and back. "Your sister was gentle as well. I appreciated her kind soul."

"Merci (Thank you)—uh…" she stammered, embarrassed that she didn't know the English term.

"It's alright. I've met enough French speakers in my life to know you're saying thank you. Not all English speakers are ignorant of other languages." Smiling, Aveline continued to lather the soap into Madame Ziio's hair and soon after rinsed it out.

Once she had soaked long enough, Aveline helped her out of the tub and dried her off carefully before helping her step into her undergarments. Nudity had never really been a problem for her, considering she had tended to children younger than herself back in Paris. However, they were all _girls_; male nudity, whether it is just the chest or the whole body, she preferred not to ever see in her lifetime.

Hélène once inquired about this, and admitted to having seen a few nude men—and on purpose, too. Aveline immediately thought the worst of her older sibling, but her fears were quickly cast aside once she revealed that she had been passing by the window of a lumber factory and the workers were in the middle of changing clothes before returning home. When the younger Grandpré daughter said otherwise, Hélène reminded her that if she ever were to marry, male nudity would become a sight she quickly grew accustomed to.

Aveline had hoped that she could go as long as she could without being married, perhaps eight or nine and twenty. But she did not wish to look after ill-mannered children and adults her whole life to ensure her safety and future.

Sighing quietly, her mind returned to the moment at present, and began twisting the Native woman's hair into two neat plaits before wrapping them around one another and pinning them to the base of her neck with a diamond clip. The small, yet spectacular hair ornament complemented her pale blue dress beautifully in contrast with her rouge-colored skin.

"You work quickly and quietly, just like your sister," her madame reminded her. "So you must be a quick learner. I will teach you the English language every day, little by little. Hélène was able to speak it well enough in three months."

Aveline was speechless; it would have cost her more than she wished to learn it in a school or by a tutor. "Merci, madame," she said quietly.

Ziio offered her a warm smile before she inclined her ear to the activity just a level below them. "I do believe our guests are here."

xxxxx

Upon descending the stairs carefully with Madame Ziio, Aveline knew that she was being watched. A creeping feeling entered her mind the moment her booted foot hit the marble floor. There were at least a dozen guests there, not one seemed to be paying her any mind, but she was _certain_ someone was looking at her.

Connor was engaged in conversation with a dark-haired woman, not much older than herself, and the several other guests that were male paid her no attention as she maneuvered her way through the crowds with Madame Ziio on her arm.

As they passed by, each guest said a proper greeting before returning to conversation, until they reached Master Haytham.

He seemed neither pleased nor disgusted by the presence of his wife, but the glint in his eye spoke volumes to Aveline, though she was not the one who caused such a reaction. "Evening, Ziio." He placed a firm, chaste kiss on the back of her hand, his eyes never leaving hers. "I trust this girl is treating you with all the respect and care you deserve."

"Yes. She's exceptional at her duties. If I ever have a cause to complain, I will inform you." He nodded once, and gave a dark look to the young Frenchwoman before he resumed his conversation with one of the guests.

When it came time for Ziio to address her son, Aveline had thought nothing of it until they were just a few feet away from him. Her heart sank into the pit of her empty stomach when his intense gaze was shifted from the girl to his mother. She prayed that he ignore her, like all the other noblemen back home.

"Son," his mother addressed him.

He took her hand in his and kissed it tenderly, as his father had just done. "Mother. Your presence makes all the other women look rather pale," he said with a grin. Ziio reflected the same, and a sort of warmth enveloped them for a brief moment and was over as she turned to the young woman.

"Madame Kenway, it's always a pleasure to see you," she said with a pleasant smile. There was a refined beauty about the Englishwoman, and no doubt with the way Connor stared at her, she was the Lilith Adams that Gerald had told her about.

She was taller than most women Aveline had seen—and many had remarked that she was a stately young woman herself. Her dark brown hair was pulled back into a neat bun, making the sharp angles in her cheekbones that much more apparent, and her ocean blue eyes were still yet lacked the luster of youth and tenacity. Connor had remarked that her lips were too full for his tastes, so it was no surprise to her that his intended barely had any—narrow and thin, like a small bird.

Aveline stifled her grin, and looked away for a moment when Lilith's fair voice was directed at her, "And is this Hélène's replacement?"

"Yes. This is her younger sister, Aveline." The French girl stood tall and met Lilith's unwavering, cold stare.

"They favor a great deal, though the other girl didn't have the audacity to stare." And with that, Lilith turned her attention back to Connor, whose eyes were still focused on Aveline as Ziio began to pull her weight towards the dining area. She glanced at him quickly and returned her attention to the Native woman.

"I know you can understand _everything_ I say, so I will inform you now that I don't favor Lilith Adams a great deal, if at all. She has a black heart, like the rest of these people," Ziio informed her just above a whisper.

Aveline had noted how quaint and formal the guests were. They barely touched, barely smiled, and barely laughed. How they could thrive in such a cold environment without warmth and laughter to enrich their lives, she couldn't fathom. Back home, though poor, everyone in her neighborhood laughed easily, loved easily, and were quick to embrace one another as if they had gone months without seeing each other.

Once Madame Ziio was seated, Gerald called her into the kitchen to wash her hands and prepare to serve a portion of the dinner party. Missus Ingalton, the eldest maidservant and apparently the utmost authority among them, was giving orders to keep the tea hot and make sure that wine and water glasses stayed full the entire night.

She was a short, squat woman with graying hair in a neat ponytail and a pair of wide, gray-blue eyes. One of the younger maidservants stuck close to her side, and sported a similar appearance, albeit more slender with dark red hair and freckles. Aveline assumed that was her daughter.

Their eyes met, and the red-haired girl frowned slightly before she busied herself in conversation with her mother. Somewhat confused, she filled the tray with the baskets of bread and returned to the dining room, which resembled a large hall with a table capable of seating sixteen. She had been given the task of serving the Kenway and the Wilmington family. While they were busy in conversation, she placed a basket in between each person, and while doing so, the feeling of being watched returned.

Slightly nervous, she stole a glance in Connor's direction; he was busy conversing with a broad, fair-haired fellow with thin lips and icy blue eyes. So as not to raise concern, she recovered from her unease and returned to the kitchen to retrieve the actual meal. Gerald looked to her expectantly, and right away, she wanted to tell him that she felt like she was being watched, but decided against it. Already, she knew he was protective of her, and she didn't want to cause any trouble.

_"Easy enough, no?"_ he asked with a smile.

_"Yes. Though I don't think Connor's intended likes me—or my sister."_

_"That's just English custom: to be very refined and formal. So try not to take it personally,"_ he assured her as he placed the covered dishes on her tray. Aveline carried it with two hands, seeing that the main course was much heavier, and returned to the table.

This time, the yellow-haired man was staring directly at her, watching her every move. She hesitated to move closer to the table once their gazes met, yet she pressed on, swallowing the lump forming in her throat. His eyes were vastly cool, yet piercing, much like Connor's. She felt exposed and naked under his scrutiny as she placed the tray on the table and began setting each dish in front of the Kenway and Wilmington family members.

_I should do this quickly, so that I can return to the kitchen and away from Connor's friend_ she thought. When it came time for her to serve his parents, they continued to ignore her as they listened to Master Kenway speak of his travels to the Far East. However, their son kept his eyes fixed on the exotic beauty making her steady approach. As she came close, he returned his focus to Connor, and she calmed immensely as she placed the tray before him, and removed the lid.

"I'd like more wine, please," he told her. His voice was surprisingly baritone, and quite pleasant on the ears, but that did not mitigate her wariness of him.

"Oui, monsieur (Yes, sir)," she said quietly, and took the bottle and began pouring it into his nearly empty cup. Just as she finished, she felt something warm skim her inner thigh, and nearly dropped the bottle in shock and embarrassment. Thankfully, no one had been paying attention—

Except Connor. His face was derived of emotion, enigmatic even. But he had seen what transpired. Hurriedly, she placed the bottle on the table and exited to the kitchen, trying to mask her shame behind indifference. Gerald hadn't noticed her change in demeanor and instead asked her to look after Madame Ziio, should she need anything.

_I would rather stand in the shadows for the rest of the evening than deal with Connor's friend again. Has he no discretion or shame in touching a woman he doesn't know or claim?_ she asked herself, discreetly standing poised behind the Native woman, who seemed to have no problem feeding herself.

Once the family had finished dinner, they retired to the main library for tea and small tarts made from fresh fruit and sweet cream. The older guests grouped together and the younger ones opted to sequester themselves off in the smaller study area.

Missus Ingalton assigned Aveline (to her behest) to the room with the younger party attendants, to pour their tea upon request and make sure that the tart plate stayed full.

As she was quickly growing used to, the three affluent persons in the room ignored her as they carried on in conversation that she personally found quite dull.

However, Connor could not mask his displeasure at the static nature of their dialogue; his eyes said it all as he lingered in his own thoughts. Aveline found it interesting, only because he seemed to fit in so well with English culture. If their current line of discussion was so boring, why was he even present?

"It seems more and more immigrants pour into our country every day by the thousands. England is such a small country, we can only house so many people," Lilith droned, sipping her tea in modest amounts. The French woman rolled her eyes, attempting to drown out the conversation at hand as she stood close to the door. Connor's blond friend had already stolen a few curious glances her way, and she shifted from foot to foot each time.

_Of course, they will talk about immigrants because I am in the room…pompous idiots_ she thought.

"I think it's refreshing to have more people from other countries settling here; it offers opportunity for economic diversity. Because of our alliance with India, we now have imported tea and spices to enrich our food. And they, in turn, receive a proper, solid education in European history," the blond man remarked, sliding the last of his tart in his mouth. The plate was nearly empty, so it was nearing her time to return to the kitchen to replenish them.

"You'll have to excuse me for a few moments, gentlemen," the tall brunette ceased the conversation immediately, gracefully striding towards the door. Aveline felt her brows nearly touch her hairline at the suddenness of her departure, and took her exit as a cue to leave the room.

Once she had departed, Connor's friend spoke, "Your new maid is quite interesting."

The Native wrinkled his nose, a glimpse of her face in his memory. "As a matter of fact, I find her appearance quite dull and uninteresting, Bernard."

"Oh, don't fib to yourself!" he scoffed, sipping his tea. "Surely, her appearance would garner the attention of any Englishman who hasn't stepped foot outside the country. Why, if she were of nobility, there'd be an entire line of suitors asking for her hand."

Connor quirked a brow, "Surely you would be one of those English gentleman in line? You fancy the unusual and... 'exotic'. No doubt that is why you've decided to take liberties with my mother's new handmaiden."

"No, I'm merely stating fact, Connor, and what does it matter what I do with her? She is merely property as long as she remains a foreign resident," he retorted. "I prefer a classic Victorian beauty: slender, regal and refined with a head full of gold curls, just like my mother."

The Native hummed quietly, determining whether or not his friend was telling the truth. He had never really paid the girl much attention after what occurred in his personal study, and he didn't intend to.

xxxxx

Once her tray was decorated with assorted desserts and a pot of tea, Aveline picked it up and headed back to the smaller study area, only to have her ears piqued by the conversation that had continued in her absence.

"….mongrels from foreign countries…"

"…European brethren lie down with barbaric people…"

"…education for the mind, not what occurs below the waist…" She heard bits and pieces of the conversation, but it was not wholesome or kind in its nature.

Frowning, she hesitated to push through the door and make her presence known. _How my sister put up with this, I don't know, but she is a woman of strong will, like Maman. Wherever she's gone, I only hope she's alright, and faring in better conditions than this._

Aveline looked up the hall for a moment, then down the other way before she removed the lid for the steaming hot water.

Smiling mostly to herself, she mustered up a good amount of saliva and spit into the pot.

_Surely they won't know the difference_ she thought as she replaced the lid, and then quietly walked inside with a more than pleasant smile on her face.

xxxxx

**First of all, sorry for the late update! And there's the Aveline spunk we all know and love! I figured since she can't openly get back at them for insulting her left and right, she'd do it in subtle ways—and she'll keep doing it, because Aveline isn't a girl who takes being mistreated all that well.**

**We will continue to find out more about Aveline's sister with each chapter, as her disappearance has something to do with the main plot. **

**For the next update, I'm aiming for April 2nd. I can't make any promises, though. With just the household desktop, I don't have many liberties. Or it may come sooner than that.**

**Does everyone like this version of Connor? Or no? And many more ACIII characters will appear, as I stated before.**

**Also: The votes are in! The Assassins and Templars will make appearances in this fiction!**

**Don't forget to review and let me know what you think of this chapter! I'm always open for suggestions for the next installment.**

**°Marseilles: a real city located in Southeast France. They were well-known for manufacturing and exporting scented soaps in the 19th century. Wealthy families like the Kenways and Adams would have no problem acquiring such a luxury of the times.**

**Until next time, PM me or let me know your concerns in your reviews!**


	3. Chapter 3

**A/N: For being so faithful, another chapter.**

**Disclaimer: I don't own any part of Ubisoft, so please don't take my money.**

**Also: Prepare for there to be Connorline moments in each chapter from now on. That lovely tension we adore starts early.**

**Chapter II: A Day in the Life**

Aveline thought about what she had just done as she poured each of the three a healthy serving of hot tea, and tried her best not to give them any reason to pay her any mind. Thankfully, they resumed their conversation, and turned to a less upsetting subject.

"Have you heard what's going on in the Johnson family?" Lilith asked, sipping her tea.

"No, the last I heard was that Sir William was trying to acquire an unused plot of land owned by the government. What has happened since then?"

"He intends to give it to the Natives he brought over here from the Americas. He defends them as if they're his own kin, claiming that they have no one to defend them or protect them from harm. They're not harmless little animals; they're human beings," she scoffed, setting down her cup. Casually, she slipped her hand into Connor's and smoothed his tanned skin with her fingertips. He reciprocated the action, and Aveline quickly looked away from the gesture. She had never felt comfortable viewing displays of affection.

"The tribe from which he took them is disappearing day by day. They number just a few hundred, and the pox is killing their old and infantile," Connor said. "While I was in the States, even my own people were having a difficult time adjusting to the changes brought on by colonial expansion."

"It was bound to happen eventually," Bernard said. "When the English first contacted the Indians, it changed the course of human history."

"Yes, well this isn't a history class," Connor interjected quickly. His eyes seemed to fill with embers as he cleared his throat. "William Johnson has pure intentions, but he will not get the desired results. We already have half a million people requesting legal citizenship, and that's more than Parliament can handle right now. If our immigrant population continues to grow, England will spiral out of control."

"They'll never let that happen. Surely, there is a form of control they can exert over the borders," Lilith said, leaning her head on her intended's shoulder.

"You can't prevent small boats from entering the harbors, or the caravans bringing in imported goods from foreign countries. Indigenous and immigrant alike, it's an adjustment we all need to make."

_For a little boy, Connor does have some form of sense_ Aveline thought, staring at the books on the shelves.

"All this chatter about immigrants and population control is making me tired. I do believe I'll be retiring home soon. Walk me to my carriage, Connor," Lilith droned. He helped her to her feet and supported her by the small of her back. Once she stood erect, she placed a light peck on his lips.

Aveline mentally rolled her eyes, and made it a point to slip out the door with their dishes before Bernard even knew that he was in the room alone. Moments later, she heard the _click-clack_ of his shoes as she walked down the hall. The other guests seemed to be leaving, as well.

The Adams were saying their thank yous and goodbyes while Haytham stood with his arm wrapped tight around his wife's shoulders. Lilith kissed Connor again, her flesh lingering on his for more than a moment before she joined her parents and went out the door. The Wilmingtons said their goodbyes and departed soon after with Bernard behind them.

Gerald swiftly approached Aveline, "I'll take these dishes to the kitchen; you may assist Madame Ziio in getting ready for bed." She nodded once, and took careful steps towards the Native woman.

Her husband was whispering something in her ear that made her russet skin turn an even deeper shade of red and shift on her feet. A light chuckle left his lips as he turned to her, "Ziio won't need your assistance tonight, maiden. You may tidy up her quarters and the study rooms, and then you may retire for the evening." She watched them with keen interest as they headed up the stairs, and her wits eventually caught up with her when Master Haytham placed his palm on his wife's backside.

"They're only disgusting like that sometimes. Tonight's party must have given him some extra vigor." Connor's voice came as a most unpleasant surprise, yet Aveline calmly turned in his direction before he turned his back to her and headed for his own room.

_After all this time, they're still like young newlyweds…I wonder if Maman and Papa would be the same way if they were still together…_ she thought morosely.

Sighing quietly, she returned to the kitchen, where most of the servants had gathered to help with the tidying. Gerald was busy piling the dirty dishes into neat sections, while Missus Ingalton's daughter washed them. Despite the rouge in her cheeks from the heat of the water, she seemed to be enjoying herself—or perhaps it was the company of the young man next to her.

Gerald was not an unattractive man, but he wasn't doggedly handsome either. It was the way his smile assured people that he was to be trusted, and the youthful glint in his gray-blue eyes that made Aveline feel at ease in his presence. The young red-headed girl seemed to be enamored with him, seeing as how she took every opportunity to laugh at his every word.

_It seems women are the same, no matter the land they live in; a pretty man with a nice smile makes the heart flutter_ she thought, clearing off the dirty plates.

Once the house had been tidied, and the Kenway family were well off to sleep, all of the servants began to vacate the home to retire to their own.

Aveline felt out of place, and quite uncomfortable; it seemed like everyone else had somewhere to rest for the night, except her.

"_I know of a Public Housing unit nearby, Aveline; I'll escort you there,"_ Gerald insisted.

"_Alright_," she agreed quietly. They walked side by side in silence, though she could feel his eyes on her ever so often.

"Where are…your parents?"

A knot formed in her stomach at the question, yet she replied, _"Maman died of the fever three years ago, and Papa…he is gone, as well."_

"_I'm sorry for asking,"_ he replied, his tone somber.

"_No one really asks where my parents are, but I'm not ashamed to tell what happened. My sister and I have had to fend for ourselves for a long time. We were forced to grow up quickly if we wanted to survive."_ Gerald remained silent, and refrained from pressing further into her dark past.

It wasn't easy for them, two little girls of mixed ancestry, to keep themselves pure and safe from the trash that roamed the streets at night. They looked after one another like the two remaining kittens in a litter, and their bond grew stronger with each passing day and all its anxieties.

The name of the Public Housing unit was Freckled Horse Inn, painted in elaborate gold above the doorpost. Several women were arriving just as they did, yet paid no mind as they hurried inside.

"_You will be safe here, with other women. The Kenway estate is just up this main street, so you will never be lost,"_ Gerald told her.

Aveline nodded a few times, staring appreciatively into his eyes. _"Thank you so much, Gerald. I didn't expect to make such a fast friend upon moving to London. I thought I would've had to figure it out on my own."_

"_You're most welcome,"_ he grinned. _"I would never forgive myself if I let a young woman try to survive on her own here, without family or friends. London has its wealthy, its glamour and its splendor, but like a rose, it also has its many thorns. I don't wish for you to experience the pain that comes with reaching out for its beauty." _Awkwardly, he coughed into his hand and took a step away from her. _"I believe this is where we part ways. Good night, Aveline, and sleep well."_

She gave him a warm smile and began to head inside, when she felt the sensation of being watched. This was the third time this night. Her heart crumpled slightly as she observed her dark, foggy surroundings and quickly entered the building.

xxxxx

"_**We will not have anymore of that mute nonsense, understand Aveline? I know you can understand me perfectly; it's just a matter of you gaining confidence in your ability to speak English. There's nothing to be afraid of."**_

_**The young girl had to catch herself from glowering at her mistress; Madame Ziio had brought up teaching her English several times already, and she feigned ignorance each time.**_

_**Each time they held a gathering for their friends, they mocked the French girl, assuming that she was deaf, dumb, and mute, since she never took the time to answer their requests. Connor found it quite amusing, to see her facial expressions change from indifference to outright indignance. Certainly, he held no romantic attraction to the girl, but she was mysterious, and entertaining. Whenever their eyes met, she would quickly look away and busy herself with her task. He knew what effect he had on women, young and old—and it drove Aveline mad to no end.**_

"_**If you refuse to learn English, I'll have you removed from our employment roster, and you can take to begging on the streets." Aveline's emerald eyes widened in shock, and the Native woman smirked. **_

"_**If you are tired of people calling you names, then it's time you learned to prove them wrong."**_

**xxxxx**

Several weeks had passed since then, and Aveline found her 'tutoring lessons' in English were bittersweet. While she enjoyed learning a new language, she felt that her mother tongue would suffer from its lack of use once English was mastered.

Madame Ziio told her that her birth tongue was one she would never forget, because it was a part of her, and that comforted her greatly.

While in the kitchen or finishing a task with Gerald, she would practice her English with him, and he seemed quite impressed that she was catching on so quickly.

However, their moments together, ended abruptly, cut short by the clipped, gruff syllables of Missus Ingalton's voice. She had been giving Aveline the most strenuous of tasks when she was away from Ziio: dusting the tall library shelves, scrubbing the cobblestone of the footpaths, and even rearranging the heavy furniture in the studies of each floor of the mansion.

Aveline suspected the woman had a personal vendetta against her, for what reason, she didn't know. But she often found herself alone, tending to her daily chores and mostly singing to herself. She found that the solitude was calming, but her new set of duties also caused her life to be interrupted by the youngest Kenway on a daily basis.

At times when she thought she was alone, reciting the latest passage from an English book, his chuckle would send a chill down her spine before he disappeared behind a door or down the stairs. His wolfish grin at her attempts to speaking English infuriated her, and she thought to pull down all the books in his study while he was away.

_I cannot let him—or any of these people—be right about me_ she thought, wiping the book shelf down with her rag before straightening her clothes. Unbeknownst to her, the subject of her thoughts entered the main library without a word, watching her as she inspected her work before moving on to the next shelf.

A soft moan escaped her lips as she rubbed a sore spot on the base of her neck and rolled her shoulders. He frowned slightly at the gesture, but that is what she was hired to do, anyway.

She started dusting the shelves again, and began singing in a low, soft tone in her mother tongue. Connor began to relax a little as he listened to her hymn, his ears soothed by the velvety tone of her voice until he quickly realized what he had been doing. He left before she could even suspect that she wasn't in the room alone. Long after he had departed, she stopped singing and turned; she had sworn that someone was in the library with her, but dismissed it as just a feeling and nothing more.

xxxxx

When Madame Ziio first saw Aveline enter her room with dark circles under her eyes, she assumed that the girl had fallen asleep late the night before.

But when it became a habit for her to slouch against the nearest wall when she finished a task, or to close her eyes while standing, or the fact that she wasn't focused during her English lessons, she knew that her work load had become too heavy.

"Why haven't you told me that they're giving you too much work?" she asked the younger woman.

Aveline ceased in braiding her hair for a moment, then continued, trying to conjure up a good excuse. But there wasn't one.

"I am a servant; that is why I am here. To work," she replied, trying to grow accustomed to her sultry voice speaking English.

"But you are still human, and much too young to have calloused fingertips and black rings around your eyes. Missus Ingalton has never cared for the girls that take Gerald's attention away from her daughter. From now on, you answer directly to me, and me alone, understand? She will not retire you to an early grave."

"Yes, Madame Ziio."

"Good. I will be resting for the remainder of the day; we will be attending a play later on this evening, _Echo and Narcissus_. Go and tend to Connor and his friends; they're in his study as usual."

Hesitant to leave her side, Aveline's face held a look of uncertainty. Her run-ins with Connor had become more frequent, and he seemed to be enjoying the rises he got out of her each time.

The Native woman grinned. "Connor is not so bad, once he stops being a pig-headed boy."

"I do not like the way he teases me. If he does not like me, then he should leave me alone."

"If you show him that you are vulnerable to teasing, then he will keep doing it. Don't give him any chances to get a reaction out of you."

Sighing gently, she exited the room without another word and headed down the hallway, trying to anticipate how many pairs of eyes would be on her once she entered his chambers.

To her surprise, it was just Connor, sitting with his legs crossed at the ankles as he read a novel to himself. He paid her no mind as she came to inspect the tea pot, which was empty, and she took it downstairs to be replenished as silently as she had entered.

It wasn't until she was setting down the metal tray that Connor's concentration was broken and he gave her a once-over. "I hadn't even noticed that you had taken the tray. You must've learned that trick from Mother." He had a smirk in his tone, but she reminded herself not to show visible discomfort.

"Madame Ziio has never taught me such a thing. However, I am grateful that she has been kind enough to teach me English," she replied, loud and clear. She nearly jumped when he snapped his book shut and got to his feet.

"Impressive. Just a few weeks' time and you sound like one of _them_," he stated, an underlying menace in his tone. Her wide, peridot eyes remained fixed on him as his massive frame towered over hers. Reminiscent of their initial meeting, she found herself backed into a corner, trapped in his gaze. "It's only a matter of time before English is all you know."

"Madame Ziio has told me that I will not lose my mother tongue," she said. Already, she found it difficult to speak clearly as she had done before; his eyes were bewitching. It appeared that if she were not to choose her words carefully, he'd break her delicate neck between the span of his thumb and forefinger.

He huffed, a crooked grin on his handsome face. "She may be right; you caught on quick. We all once thought you were base."

"I understood every word, Master Connor." She shifted under his unwavering gaze. He moved closer, the smell of embers and pine in his clothes.

"Then why not respond in kind?"

"Because I know when someone intends to be unkind," she replied, resisting the urge to shove him back.

He was close. _Much_ too close.

"And I am in no position to retaliate," she finished, slipping away from him before he could grab her, if he had even intended to. She wouldn't give him that luxury.

xxxxx

Aveline had scaled buildings and chanced getting caught by the local patrols in Paris to view plays of all sorts. With no source of income, neither she or her sister could afford an actual ticket inside.

The Royal Opera House was gorgeous and hauntingly ancient in its design. Its entirety was made of white stone, and it stood tall and distinguished among the homes and businesses made of lesser materials. Upon entering the opera house, Aveline tried her best not to gaze up at the pearly white ceilings like a small child.

Madame Ziio saw the fascination in her eyes and smiled to herself. Master Haytham paid the girl no mind as he escorted his wife to their seats situated on the upper balcony.

Connor and Lilith trailed behind them, her arm wrapped tight around his as they whispered to one another. The dark-haired Englishwoman barely paid anyone else any mind, and had completely ignored Aveline. She wasn't expecting her to be courteous to a servant, anyway.

Once they were seated and the other attendees began to fill the auditorium, "What is the name of this play?" the French girl asked.

"_Echo and Narcissus_. I'm sure you'll enjoy it. It's much like the Shakespearean novels you've been reading. Haytham's father loved coming here."

Suddenly eager, the young woman could hardly wait for it to begin.

However, as time went on and the actors poured onto the large stage, she realized that _this_ was not a play. It was torture. The actors were stone-faced, and their voices were monotonous. The woman dressed as Echo had forgotten key dialogue pieces that even _she_ knew about, and the pace of the play had crawled almost to a standstill.

The Kenways seemed to be thoroughly enjoying themselves, intently observing the stage as they whispered to one another on occasion.

However, what bothered her more than the cumbersome performance was the other 'show' going on just a few rows in front of her.

Lilith and Connor must've gone weeks without seeing one another, what with how they couldn't stop osculating one another. Aveline tried her best to ignore the small giggles and sighs coming from the pale maiden, but apparently she had forgotten that they were in a _public setting_ and not Connor's _bedroom_.

Master Haytham had cleared his throat several times when he noticed what his son was doing. Madame Ziio rolled her eyes and a scowl found its way to her face shortly after. Their son didn't seem to notice how imprudent he was being, and it wasn't until Lilith squealed and a few heads turned in their direction that his father hissed, "Do you two mind? We're here to see a play, not you two practically eat one another's face off!"

Clearly embarrassed, Lilith tore herself away from Connor and moved to the far edge of her chair.

Connor folded his arms and cast an annoyed look at his father. Aveline chuckled to herself, and Madame Ziio merely grinned in silent satisfaction.

xxxxx

Upon returning home, Connor was absolutely furious.

"I can see something is upsetting you, Son," Ziio told him softly. They were in her room, his heavy feet pacing her wooden floor.

"That…that girl was laughing at me! She found it funny that I was being scolded like a child. And I see the way she stares at Lilith as if she's diseased. This is some form of vengeance for her, I know it," he growled.

"Your behavior _was_ quite immature, Connor. You and Lilith were acting as if you hadn't seen each other in years."

"What we do is our business," he grumbled.

"Then make sure you do it in _private_." He cast her a weary glance before he placed a firm kiss on his mother's warm forehead.

"Good night, Mother."

"Good night, Son." He departed from her side, and would've barreled right into Aveline if he had been moving any faster.

"I'm sorry," she muttered quietly, readjusting her shawl. She didn't dare look him in the eye.

"Your sister disliked Lilith as much as you do. You don't belong here; your sister was smart in leaving." At mention of her missing older sibling, a stabbing pain coursed through her chest, leaving her speechless. She looked up, and he smirked.

He walked away, having felt accomplished and retired to his bedroom.

Drawing in a shaky breath, she took her time down the stairs and into the main corridor to wait for Gerald.

An image of Hélène, young, vibrant, and jovial appeared in her mind, and she imagined her slipping away from the Kenway estate in the cover of night.

Tilting her head back and staring up at the dark ceiling, she thought _Hélène…my dear sister…_

_Where have you gone?_

xxxxx

Sorry for the late update! I had a brain blast today and got ¾ of this chapter done this afternoon. I figured I'd put it up before bed time.

I wanted to hold off on the tension between Connor and Aveline, but I couldn't help but put it in the story this soon. It's blind hatred between them now, but if you look closely, there's some attraction in there somewhere. It'll change over time and eventually become something wonderful, and Lilith will be…ahem.

And I've decided I'd play with the idea that Gerald actually does like Aveline in the game, but it's unrequited love. She won't break his heart, though. They will come to a mutual understanding later on and he'll respect her wishes. But trust me, he won't like the idea of her liking Connor.

Anyway, I'm going to say **April 28th **will be the next time I update, give or take a few days. The story is going to start picking up from this point on, so my ideas will be shooting out faster.

Any questions or suggestions, leave me a review, or if you just feel like saying how much you enjoyed reading the chapter that's fine too!


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